The Deserter
by anakinlove
Summary: My version of why Robin left Batman to become Nightwing. Robin was just being jerkish and left. Then, he just has to decide if he's going to come back. please review i suck at descritions most of the time this makes it sound boring i know but please read


Bruce was sleeping fitfully. He woke up for the fifth time that night, trying to breathe softly. Bruce was lonely. Ever since Robin, now Nightwing, had left the building, he had nothing left to do with his time. True, at the end of their stay together, Dick had been moody and uninterested in just about anything Bruce had to say, but he was better then no one.

It was just the curse of the teenage years that had fallen upon his, forcing him to forget all the times Bruce had loved him and remember only the times he had "hated him". These were the times he had denied him things, when Dick's hopeful voice pleading, "let me smoke Bruce", or "why can't I go to that club alone Bruce" or " just one drink Bruce, please " or the latest, "all of my friends are going to that party Bruce, why can't I?" hadn't worked.

All those times Bruce had denied him, gently but firmly, trying to reason with him, tell him why, but Dick was a closed book when it came to no's. His body would grow ridged with fury and his eyes would burn with loathing. The look of affection he had always looked at him with as a child, reserved for him alone, was drowned in outrage. If there was one thing Dick was good at, it was holding a grudge.

But, Dick still decided to crime fight. It was the way he got out his anger, now even more of it then before. Dick had been an orphan, Bruce had taken him in, because he liked what he saw. So much rage in that small child could be directed at fighting evil.

At that time, his anger had been at those that had killed his parents. Bruce had swept him away from all this and into a world of light. He had taught him to direct his anger at evil, and he had excelled.

But, Bruce had failed to notice his willfulness, as it had been masked in great love and a desperate will to please him. Now, as a teenager, it all came out. And Bruce had cried.

Once, at the top of the tallest building in Gotham, salty tears had streamed down the cheeks of the greatest detective in all the world, to mourn for the child he was now sure hated him. The Batman had poured out his heart for this child, given him everything, and Robin had taken it all away.

Then, he made the decision to go solo. And at this final blow, had ripped out the heart of his mentor and taken it away in a dark blue suit. Bruce didn't know where his former sidekick was staying now, not that it mattered. He had tried to tell him that his doors would always be open to him, but Dick had pushed his words aside.

"I don't need you", had been his reply, "Stop treating me like a child." Then, he had walked out of his life, and the Batman had cried.

Dick Greyson was shivering. The place he was staying at was horrible. He had accepted no aid from Bruce. At the time, he hadn't wanted any, but now he wished he had. Dick was seventeen, and still completely unable to support himself. His body quaked beneath a single dirty blanket, trying to get some sleep before he went out to fight crime again.

He was working a job at a local pub and barely making enough to survive. He had to fake his age to work there, but could never afford to buy his own drink. His friend had bought him one once, but it had been so horrible, Dick had been throwing up for hours afterwards.

Smoking had brought about the same reaction from his body and Dick wondered why he had thought inhaling smoke had looked so cool before. After three parties in one night, Dick was so tired he dropped onto his bed and almost slept in on his job.

The things happening at those parties were just as horrible as Bruce said they probably would be and after going to the club alone, he was mugged three times, beaten and almost kidnapped. He never went back. But, so what if Bruce was right about those thing, he couldn't be right about everything.

Then, his alarm clock rang. "Time to go out and fight crime", Dick grumbled. He had thought about dropping that altogether, but couldn't quite bring himself to. He got into his new suit and jumped out the window.

He raced around the town and stopped a few crimes, after which he felt so good about himself, he let his guard down. That was when he met the penguin's bodyguards. He fought as fast and well as he could, but could not fight them all off before getting thoroughly ruffled up himself. He was bruised and battered when he started back to the Nightwing roost, aka, his dirty apartment.

He remembered when Bruce used to stay up with him all night, nursing his wounds after a particularly rough fight. Sometimes, it was Bruce who was beat up, and Dick would nurse his wounds, not that either one of them minded much. They just stayed up and enjoyed each other's company, sometimes just leaning up against each other in the silence.

But, Dick pushed all those thoughts out of his mind, the only thing he had too look foreword to being a lonely night back at the apartment. He was completely distracted on the trip home and failed to notice the missile the penguin had shot.

It hit him square in the chest, sending him hurtling backward. Nightwing screamed in terrible pain, his whole body on fire. His bones felt as if they all had snapped and he hit the wall. Then, he was knocked out.

When Dick came two he screamed again. His whole body hurt so badly. He was crying, half blinded by tears. He wanted more then anything to go home. Not his grimy apartment, but Wayne manor and see Bruce's face smiling down at him. But, Bruce would never take him back, no, never. He had been so horrible to him, defied him at every turn.

And Bruce had been right. He had been right about everything. Then, Nightwing had a thought, "What if I went back and told him so?" Maybe, if he begged, Bruce would give him a little food and maybe a blanket. But, more then anything, perhaps Bruce might just touch him; that would be enough. Then, he could sleep in warmth at least. Maybe a few bandages, for old times sake.

With this driving thought in mind, he dragged himself upward. It took him many painstaking minutes to drag himself just a few feet. After an hour, he was about to give up all hope, when he saw the batmobile.

Batman finally decided there was no point trying to sleep that night, so he suited up and got into his car. He drove around, stopping various crimes, until he found the penguin's minions. He decided he would desert his car in a space for a moment and beat the crap out of the trouble makers.

Feeling very good about himself after beating them up, he walked back to his car. There he saw someone leaning against the hood.

Batman froze, wondering who would dare even touch his car. He crept up and then shined a light in the person's face. There was Nightwing.

Batman could scarcely believe his eyes. His mouth dropped open and Nightwing turned his face away.

"Hi", Nightwing said softly. Batman came foreword and touched him. Then, Nightwing collapsed into his arms.

Batman carried Nightwing into the batmobile and held him in his arms while the car drove itself home. Nightwing looked terrible, covered in bruises and cuts. He didn't bother asking the boy what had happened, it didn't matter. He just held him close, as if he were afraid he would disappear.

Bruce yelled at Alfred from across the house when he got home, to bring some warm water, some rags and some blankets. He carried him hurriedly inside and laid him on his own bed. Alfred brought the things. As Bruce was pulling off Dick's shirt, Dick tried to push his hands away.

"No", he said hoarsely.

Bruce told Alfred to get some more water and then asked, "What's wrong, why not?"

"I don't deserve it", he said softly. "I defied you at everything you said, I was a jerk. I showed up by your car so I could get maybe a bit of bread. Now you take me in as if nothing had happened. You shouldn't be doing this for me."

"Ohh Dick, you don't know how much I missed you", Bruce said gently, "if I had given you your bit of bread and sent you on your way like you think you deserve, I would have been so miserable. I need you. I never stopped hoping you would come home. Part of me said I should punish you for what you did, but I just couldn't. Still, there were times when I was sure you hated me."

"I never hated you", Dick mumbled, "I was just being stupid, being a jerk."

"That's ok", Bruce said. He pulled off his shirt and gently covered all his wounds.

"Now", he said when his task had been completed, "let me hold you a few minutes and assure myself that you really are there."

Dick complied, shuffling into Batman's arms. Bruce had stripped off his armor, leaving only his shirt beneath, so Dick snuggled into him. He was too big to sit on his lap, but he pressed himself as close as he could and sighed with contentment as Bruce ran his fingers over his back and his ruffled, dark hair.

"Where are you staying?" Bruce asked.

"A small, ugly apartment on the bad side of town, I hate it."

"What are you doing for a living?"

"I work at the village pub. I had to lie and say I was twenty-one to work there. It's terrible. I get almost no money."

"You look like you haven't had a decent meal in days."

"I haven't. It's been terrible Bruce; everything you said about everything was true. I should have listened to you; after all you were the only one in the world who even cares about me anymore. I owe you everything." Bruce continued to stroke him and ran his lips over his hair.

"It's alright", he said soothingly. "I forgive you." Dick heaved a sigh, as if a great burden had been lifted off his thin shoulders. "So what now", Bruce asked. "Will you stay solo or do you want to come back? I'll take you back in a heartbeat if you want me too."

"Well", said Dick, "I don't know."

"You aren't going back to that apartment and that job", said Bruce, "I simply won't allow it."

"That's ok", said Dick, "I'll never disagree with you again."

"I'll get you a real job", said Bruce, "and you can get a decent place to live if you still want to move out. I'll understand if you do. We don't have to say permanent goodbyes to each other. After all, we can still be friends can't we?"

"Of course", said Dick.

"I understand you're growing up and you need your space so I'll be happy with whatever you decide."

"I don't know", said Dick, "right now I don't really want to think about anything. I'm just enjoying being with you again."

"Well, you don't have to decide tonight." Bruce said, "You're staying here for the night and until you completely heal. I'll quit your job for you and get rid of that apartment. I can get your stuff out of it tonight. And by me, I mean people I send to do it, of course. I'll stay with you tonight if you'd like."

"I would", said Dick, "if you don't mind."

"I don't, but you should sleep now." He laid him back gently and pulled the blankets up around his chin.

"But this is your bed", Dick said.

"I don't care." Bruce pushed back Dick's hair and kissed his forehead. Dick normally hated being babied, but tonight, he didn't care so much.

"Bruce", Dick asked as he was turning out the lights, "What if I do decide to leave; what then?"

"Just know Dick, whatever you chose, I'll always love you."

"I love you too Bruce", Dick said, and fell asleep. Bruce was there when he woke up the next morning.


End file.
